more open

the second full day in anchorage... i must admit, i am distracted. i am reliving debauchery that has no prevelance in reality. cognitively i know this. my visceral self, however, is an idiot.
i have fantasized about this ceviche since 2002. i am no fucking vegetarian. sometimes a girl must eat flesh. and the flesh must be delectable. thus, i recommend panchos villa.

god damn but it was tasty. fuck fish. they are delicious.
anchorage is the largest small town i have yet known... two degrees of seperation, max. 265,000 people and everyone has a link. this is both comforting and disconcerting... i went to high school with you and now you're flush-faced and fucked up... i saw you in the same barstool 8 years ago... we have the same friends on facebook... if you don't know me, you know a story that involves me.
i feel like a snail. anchorage is my slime.
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that's gross.
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only amateurs allow their reflection to be visible.

downtown anchorage is transversable on foot in five mere minutes. this is too fucking small for me. i want the people, the summer, and the attitude- transported to the environment in which i currently reside. that is an impossibility! the next best thing: having anchorage there to come back to. home to. whatever. the novelty of visiting eradicates the ennui of living here... i get the best of both worlds. i am already missing the people i love. yes, i can love anew- i can find similar souls who are almost as awesome- i tell myself this. but it is bullshit. i love the people i know in alaska in a way i can only hope to ever love again. jesus, this sounds like a teenage diary.
i am listening to my ipod at 309am. thanks for the sly and the family stone, s. you remind me that home is an idea, not a place. i have very fucking lovely things in seattle too.
as i told s tonight: visiting here gives me the best anchorage has to offer. i am a novelty. things are exotically nostalgic. hugs are rampant. the weather, now, is bombastically pleasant. living here would delete that panache. i can never live here again. i cannot be in a place where i want to slit my wrists 8 months of the year, where people stagnate, where i must get on an airplane to experience more diverse culture, where i cannot blend in even if i want to.
the white stripes version of 'jolene' is magical. my prior association involves the 72 express and rain-splattered windows along eastlake. now: cross-legged on a mattress with awesome sheets, the sky already turning light outside. i love my ipod. i am a fucking tool...
the weather has been fucking delightful.




the website has been a surly wench of late so i don't know how this will print...